


#notcrazy

by Callie_Girl



Series: Asylum [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, OC, Superpowers, after truth, so much gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie_Girl/pseuds/Callie_Girl
Summary: A few years after the events of Truth, Emile, Magenta, and two long-lost siblings are sent to Sanders Mental Institution.





	1. 1

"How are you doing today, Magenta?" Magenta looked at his therapist, knowing exactly what she meant.

"I still can't see it. It's just... black. Still."

She frowned. "Why do you think you can't see the colour red?"

"Or any variations. Including," he smirked, pointing at himself, "my fucking name."

"Honestly, I don't think selective colour-blindness has ever been recorded."

"It's not fucking selective!" Magenta shouted, rising.

"I know that!" she said, infuriatingly calm. "How about your depression?"

He groaned, sitting back down. "I'm drowning, man. Everyone acts like I'm a piece of glass. Maybe... If I wasn't so down, my parents would be able to be happy again. But I'm just this constant weight on their lives..."

Two years. He'd been depressed and making comments like that for two years. And, anyone could see, he was getting worse. So. Much. Worse.

She sighed. "I hate to tell you this, I really do... but your parents have decided to institutionalize you."

Magenta frowned. "Insta-what?"

"Put you in a mental ward."

 

Emile stayed dead silent when the teacher tried to make him answer the question.

"Emile, were you paying attention? It's simple math."

He stayed silent. Of course, he'd been paying attention, of course, he knew the answer. The teacher scoffed, and he winced as someone three desks behind him threw a ball of paper that hit the back of his head. The teacher saw it but did nothing.

He was the first out the door when the bell rang, grabbing his bag and starting across the schoolyard.

"Oi, retard!"

He started to sprint, clearing the yard and making it about a quarter mile before they caught him, shoving him against a wall.

"You think you're something special, do you?" Krux, the one who had him pinned, taunted. "Staying completely silent all the time!"

"He don't think much of anything!" Horax snarked.

"I heard his mum was shot right in front of him! Probably for not euthanizing him the second he was born and saving the world a problem." Raisin crowed.

"I bet she was retarded, too. Maybe that's why she liked him so damn much." Krux suggested.

"Maybe she just pitied him."

Emile shrieked in rage, punching Krux in the face.

 

Eventually, the police were called about the screaming. It wasn't Emile's screaming. It was the bullies screaming as he beat them into the ground.

His dad picked him up from the station, walking him home. They sat on the sagging sofa of their abandoned house. Emile sobbed, leaning into his father.

"Th-they insulted mama! I had to do something!" he blubbered.

"I know, kiddo, I do. It's okay, I'm not mad." his dad whispered, rubbing his back.

"I couldn't even tell them off!"

"It'll be better one day. We just have to get back on our feet. Then we can figure this all out."

Emile sniffled. "There's something you aren't telling me."

His dad sighed. "The boy's won't press charges if..."

"If what?"

"If I send you to a mental ward. Only for a little bit. They're even offering to pay."

Emile sighed. "I guess... I can live with it."

His dad smiled. "We'll get this all worked out; I promise."

 

The police kicked the door in, storming in and pointing guns at the two scientists. the two put the hands up without a fuss.

"Where are the kids?" the chief demanded.

"Kids, what kids?"

"Jag and Sweetie. We know you have them."

"Oh, those kids. They're... indisposed."

"You killed them?!"

"Oh no. We've just got them locked up."

"Where?"

"Not saying."

The chief snarled in frustration. "Fine! Take them to the station, I'll catch up. Hawkins, you're with me."

The two searched the house, calling the children's names and looking anywhere they might hide or be hidden. They found the little girl's room, a small bed and some raggedy toys, and the chief picked one up; a small hedgehog with one eye missing. It flopped in his hands, patches of the fake fur missing. It was a favourite toy, and the sighed broke his heart. He held onto it as they went to the basement.

"Damn." Hawkins cursed, looking at the lab equipment and bloodstains. "What were they doing?"

"If the file is right, these kids are gonna be a big problem." Genetic experimentation to create superpowers, two survivors, a boy and a girl. No known results, but that could change.

So could the body count.

The two came across a vault door, and Hawkins punched in a code. It swung open.

They walked in cautiously, tensing at the stifled sobbing and trying to find its source. Then, they found one of them.

The little girl, Sweetie Callie, huddled in a corner, crying quietly. The chief knelt down, presenting the toy hedgehog to her. She grabbed it quickly, looking at it.

"Stay where you are!" Hawkins glanced behind them, seeing a teenage boy holding what looked like a gun. He was shaking.

"Jagger Morra?"

"Whassit tooya?" Jag demanded. He sounded sick.

"We're here to help."

Jag scoffed. "Why would I believe you? Back away from her; against the wall. Tee, come here."

Sweetie darted behind him.

"Now, who's the tohaya?"

"My name is Dustin Prince, this is Andrew Hawkins. We're police."

"I can see that, Jason Momoa."

"We're here to get your two out of here. Do you remember Patton?"

Jag stiffened. "How do you know Pat?"

"I'm a good friend of his."

"How do I know you ain't lying?"

Dustin nervously reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out a locket. It was paw-shaped, with Jag's name on it. Jag snatched it, opening it.

It was a picture of young Patton holding baby Jag.

"A'ight, I guess. I'll come with ya, as long as you ain't levin' Tee."

"Trust me, we aren't leaving her."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooh yes, chaos. And more family drama!

Dustin hung his belt on the hook, knocking on Cato’s door. “Hey, honey, you’ll never fucking believe this!”

“What’d you find today, dear?”

“So, it turns out Jag, Pat’s brother, is alive!”

Cato looked up, brown eyes wide. “What?”

“And that’s not all! Logan has a sister! God, she looks just like him!”

“Oh god, where are they?”

“While the two are in Haiwii, the best solution was to see if there’s any psychological damage; Sander’s is watching them.”

 

“He’s gonna stab someone,” Sanders reported to Terrence. “I have no idea how, but he’s gotten ahold of three knives and a gun. No onw in this facility even has a gun. Where the hell did he get a gun?”

Terrence shrugged. “What’d you do with him?”

“He’s with that Picani kid.”

Terrence scoffed. “You gave him a room mate?!”

“I’m probably gonna regret it.”

 

Jag pounded on the door. “LET ME OUT!”

Emile raised an eyebrow. Why would they let this kid out? He’d almost stabbed someone. With a machete.

Jag sat on his bed. “Who are you?”

Emile stayed silent.

“Do you talk?”

He shook his head.

“Can you talk?”

He shrugged.

“Do you talk to anyone?”

He nodded.

“Why don’t you talk?”

He pointed a finger gun at his chest and mimed shooting.

“So… you either saw someone die or tried to kill yourself?”

He held up one finger.

“Was it a sibling, a friend? A parent?”

He held up three fingers.

“Dad or mom?”

He held up two.

“Do you talk to your dad?”

He nodded.

“Anyone else?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. He just… couldn’t.

“Well, you can… communicate fine. Are you here because you don’t talk?”

He shook his head, tapping his bruised knuckles.

“You beat someone up?”

Four fingers.

“Four somebodies?”

Nod.

“Badass. I like you, kid.” Jag considered. “Wait, I think you’re older.”

Emile shrugged. He was fifteen.

“I like you.”

 

Logan kissed Patton’s neck, waking him up. “Hey love, Dustin called. Pronouns?”

“Hm… they/them, I guess,” Patton muttered sleepily. They grabbed the proffered phone. “Hey, Dusty.”

“Patton, you know that brother you always talk about?”

“Yeah. Jag.”

“Well, he’s alive.”

Patton dropped the phone.

 

Magenta had noticed the little girl crying and tried to make her feel better. He sat next to her.

“Hello,” he whispered.

“Hh-hewwo.” she sobbed.

“I take it you aren’t okay?”

“I miss Jag!”

Who the hell was Jag? “Who’s Jag?”

“M-mm-my brother!”

“Do you know where he is?” Please don’t say heaven, please don’t say heaven, please don’t say heaven-

“He’s here somewhere! They took him away!” Well… middle ground, he supposed.

“Well, how about I help you find him?”

She sniffled, hugging an old toy hedgehog. “Okay.”

The two got up.

 

Missy Mullins was in jail. Oh come on, it had been funny. She’d only stolen the president’s limo, why was everyone freaking out?

Okay, maybe she’d shot a few people. But only in the knees!

Well, she’d shot that one guy in the shoulder. Only the left one.

Whatever, it had been fun.

The cell door unlocked, and she smirked. “Hello, mummy.”

Her mom sighed. “Missy. Come on.”

She followed her mom out, sinking into the seat of the limo. She smirked, waiting for the lecture.

“Missy, you can’t be doing stuff like that.”

“Oh? I know.”

“Then why do you do it?” her mother cried, exasperated.

“Three guesses, mother dear.”

“I swear to god, if this is still about your brother-”

“Nope. Down to two.”

Her mother sighed. “Mental illness?”

“No.”

“Is this still about the whole accent thing?”

“Ding ding ding.”

Her mother groaned in annoyance. “Ten years, Marian Peru! Ten!”

“Do not call me Marian Peru!” Missy snarled. “And I can be pissed about you two faking Brittish accents until I was six as long as I damn well please!”

Honestly, the lengths her parents had gone to get a child with a Brittish accent.

“You’re so damn entitled.”

“You two have always been low key Satan.” she retorted.

“I can’t even deal with you. You’re staying with your uncle for a week.”

“I thought you didn’t want his "gay ways” to rub off on me.“

"I don’t. But if they do… at least I’ve reason to abandon you.”

“Fuck you.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James the meme queen

James rollerbladed into his and Remy’s house, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and holding a pina colada. “Remy, you’re not gonna fucking believe this!”

Remy frowned. “Isn’t that a meme?”

“Yeah. I got this shirt just for it.”

“Oh my god. What did you want to tell me?”

“Nevermind that! We gotta go visit your dads!”

Remy froze. “What? Right now?”

“I’ll explain on the way there!”

Then he rollerbladed out, and Remy was in wonder as to how he’d married this dork before someone else had.

 

“You did awesome!” Virgil shrieked, hugging Roman fiercely. “That was the best Lucas Binaki I’ve ever seen!”

Roman laughed. “How many times have you seen this play?”

“Are you kidding? How could I not see every possible play of the Addams Family!?” He gestured to his face. “Hello?”

“I’m glad you liked it, kitten. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“All I did was help you act momentarily dark and sinister. It’s my talent.” Virgil huffed.

“Noooo, your talent is being cute and adorable,” Roman argued.

“Sh-shut up!” Virgil cried, blushing.

“You wanna go out to dinner?”

“Let’s go to that new McGoth place.”

“Of course, kitten.”

 

Thomas was walking down the hall when his shoelace came untied and he crashed to the floor ungracefully. Terrence burst out laughing. Someone helpfully called, “He needs some milk!”

Another person sang, “mmmm whatcha say.”

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh at himself as he stayed on the ground.

“You!”

He stopped laughing and sat up. It was weird how terrifying a four-year-old with a stuffed hedgehog marching down a hall and flanked by another person was.

“Where is he, muttafucka?” the girl demanded. Thomas’ eyebrows shot up. Where did she learn that?!

“Where is who?”

“Jag!”

“Oh… the kid with the machete?”

“Yeah! Where is he!?”

“He’s in room 234.” (oh yes, so original, Vigilante. 234)

The girl nodded before storming off. Her friend followed.

“Jesus Christ, that one’s scary,” Terrence noted. Thomas nodded, looking at his shoes.

They’d been knotted together.

But when? They hadn’t been when he’d started walking, and no one but the girl had been close enough. The girl couldn’t have done because she was up in his face…

What?

 

Where the hell had Jag gotten a lock-picking kit from?

Emile watched him try to unlock the door, slightly amused. He kept screwing up then swearing under his breath. Emile was awesome at picking locks (people kept locking him out of his own locker), but he wanted to see if Jag could figure it out.

Jag sat back, staring at the lock angrily. Then, it began to rattle. His eyes widened and he moved back a bit. The lock clicked a few times, then the door swung open.

A little girl with sharp, dark brown eyes stood there. She grinned when she saw Jag, running over to him and hugging him.

“We’ll find Pat on our own,” Jag promised, picking her up. “Nice to meet you, Emile.”

He started down the hall, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice calling him. He spun.

Patton.

He set Sweetie down and raced over to his brother, hugging them.

“I thought you were dead,” Patton whispered.

Jag grinned. “I thought you were smaller.”

The broke apart. Jag noticed that Patton had dyed their hair a shade of light blue. Their eyes, however, matched Jag’s perfectly.

“God I’ve missed you.” Jag whispered. Sweetie came over, gripping Jag’s hand.

“Who’s this?” Patton asked. Logan appeared behind them, looking out of breath.

“Oh, this is Sweetie. Sweetie Callie.”

Logan’s posture went rigid as he examined the girl. “I beg your pardon? Could you repeat that?”

“… Sweetie Callie.”

Logan’s eyes widened…

and he fainted.

Jag frowned, kicking him gently. “Who’s this?”

“Logan. He’s my boyfriend.”

Jag snorted. “You picked a tough one for sure, Pat. Honestly.”

“Well… Logan Callie. His family has been a line of single children for like, generations, and Sweetie looks exactly like him. So… you know…”

“She might be his sister. So?”

“His dad is dead and his… their, I guess, mum is a murderous sociopath.”

Jag tried (and failed) to raise an eyebrow.

 

Dustin yawned, walking to the door and responding to the determined knocking with an “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

He did a double take when he saw his niece standing there with a bag. “Missy? What the hell?”

“Mom is making me stay here because she’s pissed. Neither of us have any choice in this matter.” Missy stated, walking inside. Dustin blinked and closed the door. 

“I thought your mom didn’t like me… why do you have an accent?”

“Because mum and dad talked in a Brittish accent until I was six.”

Seemed like the kind of thing his sister would do. “But I thought she didn’t like me?”

“She doesn’t. She just hates me more than she hates you.”

Dustin blinked again. “Okay, I’m still half asleep. Ah… we have Lucky Charms, can you put on some coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Ah… my husband is here. Are you cool with that?”

“I don’t care if you’re gay, dude.”

“Okay.”

Dustin walked back upstairs, rubbing the back of his head and sitting on the bed. Cato rolled over, looking at him sleepily.

“Who was that?”

“My niece, apparently.”

“I thought her mom didn’t like you.”

“She doesn’t. Anyway, Missy’s downstairs making coffee. Please, put your damned trousers on.”

Cato frowned. “But life is so free without them.”

“Trousers. Now. And a shirt, if you’re up to it.”

He grabbed his own shirt, pulling it on before going back downstairs, finding the coffee done. He added some cream and leaned against the counter, sipping it.

“You like Black Veil Brides?” Missy asked.

“Yep. How’d you know?”

“You’re wearing a Fallen Angels shirt.”

“So… why’s your mom dropping you off at six-thirty?”

“The sooner she can be rid of me, the better.” she wouldn’t tell him how her mom hoped Dustin being gay would rub off on Missy so she could be abandoned.

“Well, if your mom wanted you to skip out on as much gay shit as possible, she chose the wrong day.” Dustin laughed.

“Why?”

“Family reunion; six gay sons and all my and Cato’s queer friends.”

“Who’s Cato?”

“Someone called?” Cato slid dramatically down the bannister and fell on his face. Dustin burst out laughing, putting his coffee down to avoid spilling it. Even Missy giggled as Cato rose and indignantly brushed himself off and walked over. He smacked Dustin’s arm.

“Missy…” Dustin gasped when he finally stopped laughing. “This is Cato, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you,” Missy said. 

Cato nodded, then looked at the coffee Dustin had. “That fresh?”

“Missy just made it. Help yourself.”

Missy turned back to Dustin. “What’s that on your arm? The flag.”

He glanced at his left bicep. “Oh… bisexual flag. I’m bi.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I can like boys or girls.”

Missy frowned. “Mum said people could only be straight or gay.”

“She was wrong. There’s like… an entire alphabet.”

Missy was intrigued.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry

On the plane, Remy touched James’ stomach, smiling at the slight bump he felt. James sighed.

“What do you think it will be?” Remy asked excitedly.

“I want a girl. Our family doesn’t have enough… any… girls.”

Remy nodded. “What about a name?”

“If it’s a girl, I get to name her. You get to name it if it’s a boy.”

“If it’s a boy, I’m naming him Shane. Or Ronin.”

“I’d name a girl Shaera. You know, one of those really cool names that you would get in a superhero movie.”

“I like that name.”

James sighed, cuddling up to his husband. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too.”

 

 _“C'mon, Maj!” Sorrun was buzzing with excitement. “The fire hydrant broke!”_  
Magenta looked over to his father. His father sighed but motioned for him to go. In their neighbourhood, a busted hydrant was a free water park.  
The two six-year-olds ran around and played with other children, screeching with joy.  
No one thought much of the grey Cadillac that drove closer and closer…  
No one thought to examine that car…  
Sorrun was closest…  
A hand reached from the window. Magenta never saw the gun, he just heard several gunshots go off, and everyone was screaming as the car sped off. He walked over to where Sorrun lie in a daze, watching his friends blood turn the water red.   
Sorrun’s eyes went black and he shoved his friend away.  
“Why didn’t you help me, Maj? Why? I hate you! I hate you!”  
Magenta, now fully grown, backed away. “I- I’m sorry-”  
“It should’ve been you, not me!”  
“I know, I know!”  
“I hate you!”

Magenta awoke with a gasp, falling out of bed and staying on the floor. He heard Emile wake up and stand, walking over and poking him. He grumbled, waving his roommate away.

“I’m fine.”

No, he wasn’t.

 

“So, what has your mom told you about us?” Dustin asked casually. Noticing Missy’s hesitation, he added, “I doubt it’s worse than what she’s said to my face.”

“She’s said that you’re a prostitute and your husbands a drug lord.”

Dustin started laughing. “Oh Jesus, she’s lost her creativity. Oh my God!”

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, for starters, I’m a police officer. I was WIA during the Afgan war, roadside bomb. I doubt I would date a drug lord. Cato used to work from home, but now he’s retired. Anything else?”

“You’re poor.”

“Well, if my babe was a drug dealer, I wouldn’t be poor. But I’ve got the military pension, make decent money, and inheritance from when dad died. No, dad didn’t write me out of his will.”

She blushed. “Sorry.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I don’t really expect you to remember anything about meeting me.”

“I’ve met you?”

“Yeah, when you were about two months old. You’re dad thought it was stupid that I wasn’t allowed to see you, so while your mother was on vacation he let me meet you. You were a tiny little thing, about the size of a chihuahua.”

“I was born prematurely.”

“Yeah. I held your hand while you were in an incubator.”

“My mom went on vacation while I stayed in the hospital?”

He winced. “Are you surprised?”

“Depressingly, no.”

They both jumped when the doorbell rang. “Oh, that should be the boys.”

Dustin opened the door, ushering the small crowd inside. “Guys, this is Missy. Missy, this is-” he took a deep breath. “Roman and his boyfriend, Virgil, Logan and his sister Sweetie, his husband Patton and Patton’s brother Jag, then there’s James and his husband Remy.” Each one raised a hand or waved or something when Dustin said their name.

“Oh, Dustin. We have a happy announcement.” James called. He’d decided to forget the reconstruction surgery, but he’d still had the gender one. He griped Remy’s hand, grinning.

“Oh, what’s that?”

“I’m pregnant!”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay ships. I'm sorry, I wrote this with writers block.

“Oh come on, how can you not ship Vigilante and Shining Knight?” Magenta facepalmed. He and Emile had found common grounds in sign language.

Well, I’ve never seen the show.

Magenta gasped dramatically. “How dare you?! We need to find you a computer right now. This is a matter of national importance.”

Are you really saying all of this just to show me a gay ship?

“Yes! It’s fucking adorable!”

Is it even canon?

Magenta sighed. “No. But then again, gay ships rarely are. Especially on kids shows.”

I’ll never understand that.

“I know, right? Gay-genda, or some shit like that.”

Emile laughed.

“Oh my god, you do make noise! Jesus, I thought you didn’t, what?!” Magenta was acting like it was the biggest deal in the world.

Calm your tits, it isn’t a big deal.

“It is a huge fucking deal!”

You’re overreacting.

Magenta gasped in fake and dramatic offence. “How… dare… u…”

Did you just talk in meme? How the hell-

“Hey! Watch the language!”

Oh, so you can say shit but I can’t say hell?

“Yes! Go to your room!”

I’m already in my room.

“Don’t sass me, young human!”

Emile laughed. Magenta started freaking out even more. Pretty soon, they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe. Every time they would calm down, they would look at each other and lose it again. It took thirty minutes to calm down, and even then they were still giggly. The two sat on Magenta’s bed, leaning against each other.

“You’re a riot, dude.” Magenta said, grinning. “I’m glad I’m stuck here with you.”

“Same.”

Magenta froze, slowly looking at the stunned Emile. “Did you just… talk?”

Emile touched his lips and tried again. “I… I did!”

 

Remys rubbed James’ spine as he knelt by the toilet, throwing up. James sighed, leaning back when he was done.

“Fuck this whole morning sickness thing. Fuck it.” James rasped. “Being pregnant is hard enough, what is this shit!?”

Remy smiled, kissing James’ forehead. “It should only last for another month, and then it’ll be done.”

James groaned. “Only another month?”

“Fair point. Are you okay?”

James sighed, rising. “I’ll live. Let’s go talk to people. Yay.”

 

Missy answered the door, finding a really tall black woman in a long black dress.

“Oh, hey Jayjo. Missy, this is my friend, Jay.” Dustin said, inviting Jayjo inside. He/she smiled in welcome, bowing slightly to get through the door.

Missy had to ask. “How tall are you?”

Jayjo laughed. “I’m 7'11. Basically a giant.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Jayjo whispered something that sounded like, “my half brother.”

Missy turned her attention to the second person; a middle-aged Asian woman with plenty of grey hair and a kind smile.

“Hey there.” the woman greeted, “My name is Leah, I’m James’ mom.”

Missy frowned. Which one was James again? The one with blue hair? No… that was… it was Logan, right…? No, Logan had been the one dating the blue haired one and…

“James had black hair, and he’s about your height.”

Oh, that one. “He’s a very nice kid. You must be proud of him.” this Leah woman hadn’t given her reason to be mean, so she’d be nice.

“Unfortunately, I was only there for him until he turned five.”

Speak of the devil, James slid down the handrail like a little kid. At the end, he kind of lost balance and fell on his face, so of course, everyone, including him, started laughing. Except for little Sweetie, who thought that was rude and helped him up. He managed to thank her through his laughter.

Logan came downstairs second, picking up Sweetie. She buried her face in his polo. She’d been delighted to have an older brother. Well, another older brother. One who was actually related to her. She’d barely left his side since she’d met him. It was adorable.

Best family reunion ever.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eh... it's too late to think of a witty summary for this. Have fun

Logan had been postponing this as long as he could, but he had to know how Sweetie was related to him.

He walked through the halls of a prison for the criminally insane. After his mother had been found legally insane by sociopathy, she’d been put here. Logan hoped she stayed there.

He stopped in front of cell 666. She was laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Mother.” he greeted.

“Boy.”

“I wish to keep this brief. There’s a girl, named Sweetie. She looks like me and has my last name. I wish to know how she’s related to me.”

His mother sat up. “So… it was a girl. Named Sweetie.” her lips curled in disgust. “It’s mine. After your pathetic dad died, when you were at boarding school. That’s when it was born.”

Logan clenched his fists. “My father wasn’t pathetic. He was a great man.”

She dismissed his anger with a wave. “He was overly emotional. ‘I want to take him to my mother’s house’ he says, 'you don’t love him. You aren’t good for him,’ he says. I gave birth to you, boy.”

“Thank you for giving me no choice in the matter,” Logan growled snidely.

“Be grateful. You’re just like him; you can’t see the big picture. You would’ve been perfect, like me, if you’d just listened to me.”

He forced himself to stay silent. Arguing with his mother got him nowhere. He had what he needed.

As he left, he couldn’t help but mutter a small, “I love you…” to her.

Her laughter followed him down the hall.

 

 

“I… I don’t get it…” Emile whispered. It was like… whatever stopped him from talking had let up. How?

“Oh… my… God. You can talk!” Magenta was losing it.

“P-p-please calm…”

“Oh! Sorry.” Magena forced his excitement down. He didn’t want Emile to go back to not talking. Well, if that could even happen. He had no idea how this mute thing worked. 

“It’s… it’s okay.” Now that Emile was talking, Magenta could hear a slight Southern twang to his voice.

“I like your voice. You kind of sound like you’re from a romance movie.

A painful reminder. Emile blushed dark red, and Magenta could only see Magenta’s face grow dark grey. He bit his lip, good mood wilting as he was reminded of why he was there in the first place.

Emile noticed his friends change in mood. "Why are you upset?”

“… When I was a kid, my best friend was shot in front of me. I remember how his blood turned the water red, I see it in my nightmares… my therapist thinks that may be the cause… I can’t see the colour red or variations. Even certain shades of purple are dodgy. She calls it selective colour blindness. I really don’t see what’s selective about it.” he never understood using the term selective. He thought it made it sound like he chose to not see a colour.

“It’s more like your subconscious selects not to do something. Like my subconscious doesn’t let me talk around… people. Maybe your’s is trying to protect you from flashbacks.”

“Maybe.”

 

“Okay, the first thing we need to do is find out how Jag keeps getting weapons, especially the M16.” Jag had pulled a knife when Jayjo snuck up on him.

“When did he have an M16? That’s like, a heavy duty gun.” Vigil wondered.

“He had it at the ward. He pulled it when he was separated from Sweetie, and no one knows how he got it.”

Logan nodded. “Sweetie moved a bed across the room. It was the guest bed. The one that weighs about twenty times she, and we didn’t hear her move it. No one else can either. The only one on the entire floor was her.”

“Stuff keeps happening around those two that shouldn’t be possible. Dustin, what did you say they were taken for?” James asked.

“Apparently, illegal human experimentation. They were trying to… oh… shit.”

“What?”

“Superhumans. They were trying to make superhumans.”

Fuck.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the hug doll idea is from @Randomslasher. I found it while I was looking up coping mechanisms for touch deprivation. However, The idea of Missy being touch-starved is my own.  
> Also, we got some confrontation.

James groaned in annoyance. “What on earth is the point of being legal drinking age if you can’t drink!?” at Remy’s laugh, he jokingly snapped, “I’m beginning to think you planned this! Of course, I conveniently find out I’m pregnant a week before my twenty-first.”

Remy shrugged. “You caught me. I’m putting up with over eighteen years of hell to keep you from drinking.”

“Fucking knew it. As John Constantine would say, ‘fuck you.’”

Remy smiled mischievously. “Why would I do that? I already fucked you.”

James groaned. “You’ve waited years to make that joke, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

 

Missy could NOT believe she’d resorted to this. She was in denial, even though the evidence of her crimes lay in front of her, accusing her.

Her parents had never been affectionate. Far from it. UNless it was a harsh slap, they never did more than yank her hair to drag her out of whatever situation she was in. It had never really occurred to her that she should want the contact. Until…

The casual affection of this family had blindsided her. Hugs and hand-squeezes were a normal occurrence. And that had started a problem.

Each time she thought about the gentle, one armed hugs the boys gave her or the full, strong ones from her uncle, a fire started in her chest. It was almost painful, the longing. Her body rebelled against the constant solitude to a point that it actually kept her from sleeping. She’d googled it, eventually;

Touch Deprivation.

She’d tried everything; rubbing her arms and legs, hugging herself, weighted blankets… none of it compared to the feeling of someone’s arm slung over her shoulders. She’d gotten an idea from something online…

And she hated herself.

While the family had all been discussing something, she’d made like a fuggin’ bandit and snuck around the house. One shirt from each family member, something she thought wouldn’t be missed. The assembly lay on her bed, mocking her.

What kind of crazy did it take to steal clothes…

For a fucking hug doll?

She grabbed a heating pad from her bag. It was the only nice thing her mom had done for her. Even though it was generally for menstrual cramps, it would do.

In the dead of night, she stole an extra pillow from the closet. It was one of those nice, squashy memory foam ones. Perfect.

She grabbed Dustin’s shirt, fitting it over the pillow and the heating pad. She waited for the pad to warm up, wallowing in self-hatred. It took all of her resolve to grip the doll anxiously, and pull it to her body.

Oh.

It was perfect.

Forgetting all shyness and abandoning all thoughts of how this could be taken, she hugged the pillow tighter. Just like a real hug, the smell of the shirt eveloped her, the heat substituting the feeling of a real person with perfection.  
It was heavenly.

 

In all honesty, it wasn’t like you could google how to confront your brother about supposed superpowers. Patton was going into this blind and, if he was being honest, a bit scared. He knew that Jag wouldn’t have hurt him before being taken and experimented on, but now? God knows how he could react.

“You’ve been standing outside that door for quite some time now.” Patton almost screamed, spinning to face the new arrival. Missy. “Are you going to knock, or…”

“You frightened the bejesus out of me.”

“What does that even mean?”

Paton shrugged, falling back into his easygoing demeanour. “I don’t know. Cato says it a lot.”

He managed to stall his task with a fifteen-minute conversation with Missy, until Jayjo called her for something.

Patton took a deep breath, and knocked on Jag’s door.

No turning back now.

Jag called for him to come in, and Patton did so, sitting on the bed next to his half-awake brother.

“Jag… I have something to ask you…” Patton took a deep breath. Rip the band-aid off. “Do you have superpowers?”

Jag blinked. “Kinda. I can’t… like… shoot lasers out of my ears or that stuff…” Jag was more awake now. “But I can steal whatever I want and conceal weapons really easily, 'slong as the thing ain’t bigger than me.”

“Can you show me how it works?”

Jag nodded, sitting up and un-tucking his shirt, pulling it up a bit to reveal an impressive array of tattoos. He seemed to consider before resting his hand over one that was a perfect picture of a lighter. His eyes screwed shut, and he removed his has.

The tattoo was gone.

The lighter was in Jag’s hand.

“By pressing something to my skin, I can turn it into a tattoo. When I want to use it, I can turn it back. I can’t do it with anything bigger than me, kinda. Like, I can’t take a couch, but I can take a flat-screen TV because one side of the box is more narrow and short than I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Jag murmured something, and when asked to repeat it, he whispered, “I just got you back. I didn’t want to lose you because you thought I was a freak.”

“You aren’t a freak. Even if you were a freak, you’re a freak among 'freaks.’ Like… Jayjo is a real, honest-to-God angel. Do you know that? I saw him/her summon the powers of Heaven to take down a human trafficking ring. And James? His dad was one of the most notorious gang lords ever. Roman had a Twilight phase. Remy used to be into occult stuff. Virgil has a photographic memory. Heck, Logan’s mom is a sociopath who murdered someone over an argument. Even Dustin has been in his goth phase for, like, twenty years.”

Jag laughed at the random onslaught of facts that could probably double as blackmail. “What about Cato?”

“He once told someone to suck Trump’s dick. He also told them that he would kick Lucifer in the dick before doing something.”

“I guess his insults are generally dick based?”

“Oh yeah. His particular favourite is something along the colourful lines of 'Merlins saggy left testicle.’ The man is a national treasure.”

Jag laughed. “Jesus! I’m practically normal compared to you lot!”

“Exactly.” Patton smiled, wrapping his younger brother in a hug.

 

It took a while for Emile to warm up to him, but the patience on Magenta’s part was worth it.

Currently, Emile was standing on the bed, singing a Taylor Swift song. Magenta had started the competition with a Spice Girls song, and Emile was not the type to back down from a challenge. So now, Emile was hitting notes that even Michael Jackson couldn’t, and Magenta was making electric guitar noises for accompaniment, both of them jumping on their beds and generally having a grand time. Two nurses had scolded them to be quiet. Well, they scolded Magenta to be quiet, because as far as they were concerned, Emile didn’t talk. Barely made more than small vocalisations of distress or anger. Which rarely happened. It happened once when someone bought up a controversial pizza topping.

No, not pineapples.

Strawberries. On pizza.

Why?

Eventually, they wore themselves out and each sat on their respective beds, a tad giggly.

“God, you are such a dork.” Magenta marvelled.

“I am the dorkiest dork to ever dork.”

“Stop being so damn adorable.” seriously. It was making Magenta question his sexuality.

“Oh sure. I can just flip a switch, and I’m suddenly a bad-arse.”

“Yeah. Like Zane the robot!”

Emile pointed at Magenta threateningly. “I do not want to hear one more children’s cartoon reference out of you.”

“Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up back here.”

“Did you just quote Supernatural. Oh my god.”

“I feel like God is the wrong word to use for Supernatural.”

“Now you listen to me, you arrogant dick-”

“YOU DID IT TOO!”

“… Shit.”

 

Roman regarded his suitcase with confusion. “Babe, my shirts keep going missing.”

Virgil, who was wearing a Terminator shirt that was about five sizes too big, said, “spooky.”

“Have you seriously resorted to petty thievery because you don’t want to do the laundry?”

“… Maybe…”

Roman laughed. “I’ll do it later.”

“Later, huh?” Vigil rose, walking across the room and resting one hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Well, what are you gonna do in the meantime?”

Roman smirked. “I have a few ideas.”

“Markiplier videos?”

“I wanna watch the Containment Breach series!”


	8. 8

Missy woke up with a choked gasp, fist flying out. The person who’d awoken her, James, blocked the blow with ease.

“It’s just me,” he whispered, smiling gently. “One hell of a nightmare, huh?”

Missy laughed shakily, sitting up. “You have no idea.”

“I might.” he glanced at something, and to her horror, she realized he’d seen the hug doll. She tried to discreetly kick it off of her bed.

“Really?” she asked. James smiled sympathetically.

“Oh yeah. Unfortunately, I know the ins and outs of abusive parents.”

“Y-you? But I thought Dustin and Cato-”

“I’m adopted. Still spent seventeen years with my jackass dad before I stabbed him.”

“You… you stabbed your dad?”

“I was panicking.”

She nodded. “Reasonable.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but… what are your nightmares about?”

She took a deep breath. “Back home, I have my own little gang. Andy, Aven, Dayd, Teal, Pryce, Geo, Luce, and Percy. They’re my lifeline.”

“Your nightmares are about losing them?”

She nodded, face burning in the dark.

“How tight are you guys?”

“Known each other since we were in kindergarten.”

“So, practically siblings?”

“Yeah.”

“They wouldn’t fall out with you unless you killed one of them. And, sorry honey, but you don’t strike me as the homicide type,” he smirked.

“You have a lot of sass for someone so tiny.”

“I’m shorter and therefore closer to hell.”

Missy laughed. 

“So, I’m gonna be honest,” James started, resting his hands on the bump of his stomach. “You do not strike me as a Missy.”

“Better than Marian Peru.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I know, right?”

 

 

Teal hit the door hard, a growl of rage exploding from him. “BITCH!”

Dayd laughed. “Oh yeah, Teal. Real smooth.”

“Missy’s mom is a bitch. We already knew that, babe. But we still don’t know.” Teal flipper off the door. “For all we know, sis was shipped off to Jupiter.”

Andy snorted, shaking his brown hair from his face. “Not likely. More like Missy’s buried under the porch in a shallow grave and if we don’t clear off we gone meet the same fate and Mullins is watching us through the peep-hole and-”

“Andy, you’re doin’ it again.” Aven, Andy’s twin brother, warned. Andy forced himself to shut up, pinching his lips shut and giving a muffled apology. Luce wrapped one arm around Andy’s shoulders, laughing.

“You don’t hafta apologize. For all we know, you might be right.” she grinned.

“It would be nice if we knew where Mag was, too,” Geo grumbled, ever the sombre one. 

“Why is it that when someone goes missin’ in our gang, they always have M as the first letter in their name?” Pryce demanded, whipping out his cell and calling Missy. A familiar ringtone sounded from under the porch, and they all looked at each other.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Aven groaned.

“Tolja so,” Andy smirked.

 

 

Magenta practically woke up the entire hospital with his shriek of surprise.

He’d woken up earlier than usual, and, after a few minutes of laying in bed and contemplating life, opened his eyes and glanced over at Emile.

Emile’s hair, which had always looked light grey before, was cotton-candy pink.

A few nurses bust in, looking around for what was wrong. Magenta pointed at Emile, who looked slightly dazed. “H-h-his… his hair! His hair is pink!”

Marc, the nurse who normally worked with Magenta, grinned. “That’s right. You can see it?”

Magenta nodded numbly. He… he could see it! It was weird. Now that he could see the pink shade of Emile’s eyes, his friends’ albinoism was more obvious. Emile’s face broke into a smile. Magenta wanted so badly to hug his friend, but, as they were constantly told, no touching.

So instead, he grinned like a fool. “I don’t believe it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God I'm sorry for the lack of updates. I've had finals and they have been absolute murder, but I'll get better with this when summer break rolls around.

Everyone woke up to a loud, heavy THUD from the door. Dustin shot to his feet, checking that his gun was loaded, then nodding to a now-awake Jayjo as he started towards the door, shouting, "I'm armed!"

In response? Another thud.

Jayjo grabbed a machine gun. "What should we do?"

"If they manage to get through the door, give them two seconds to see that we're armed and if they don't clear off, fire a warning shot. Next one to the right hand, got it?" When Jayjo nodded, he loudly shouted, "We've called the police!"

You could cut a knife through the silence that followed.

Dustin waited a few minutes, then whispered, "I'm gonna see if anyone's out there. If someone tries to get in, shoot their head off."

Jayjo nodded, keeping the gun pointed at the door as Dustin opened it quickly, his gun aimed square at where almost anyone's head or chest would be.

There was no one at the door.

He looked up and down the street. It was completely abandoned. Jayjo glanced behind theirself, making sure whatever it was wasn't behind him/her, like in a horror movie.

Dustin whistled, drawing his/her attention. "There's a tiny box. Cassette-shaped."

Jayjo edged closer to the door. A close examination found no wires or obvious triggers, and it was too small to be a bomb, besides. Considering that Dustin had only fallen asleep a few minutes ago, there was no way anyone would've had enough time to set up a pressure plate

"This is some horror movie shit," Jayjo remarked.

"True. Should I touch it or no?"

Leah pushed between them with a sigh, picking up the box and returning inside the house.

"How did you know that would work?" Jayjo asked.

"Asian people never die in horror movies." She opened the box, finding a cassette. "Should we listen to it?"

"Probably not." Missy joined them at the table, the others not far behind her. "But let's do it anyway."

Dustin nodded, grabbing a radio from on top of the refrigerator and putting the cassette in, but keeping his gun trained on the device in case... well, he didn't know. In case of demonic stuff, he guessed.

None of them quite expected what happened.

Highway to Hell started to play.

Remy gasped, his hands covering his ears on instinct. Cato turned the radio off, quickly walking over to his son and gently whispering, "Hey, it's okay. Look at me. Focus on me. Can you do that?"

Remy nodded jerkily, tears running down his face. James gently took his husband's hand, leading him out of the room and whispering to him under his breath. Cato stared at the radio. "Who the hell sent that?"

"We don't know. What just..."

Catos face was grim. "When Remy's parents died in that car crash, you know the song that was playing?" he pointed at the radio.

Dustin sighed. "We never catch a break."

 

 

Luce sighed. "Dudes, I keep seeing this same dude everywhere. Like, I go to the bar, and this bitch is there. I go to school, and this bitch is there. I go home, and this... this... this MOTHERFUCKA is in my neighbours' yard, THERE! It ain't right, man."

Aven tilted his head. "Can you describe said motherfucka?"

"Sho can. Grey hair, pretty built. And these cold grey eyes that kinda... cut holes in ya soul, you know what I'm saying?"

"I've been seeing that same guy!" Geo blurted. "Like, everywhere!"

"Same," Andy whispered, biting his thumb.

Going around the group, each member admitted to having seen the guy at least once a day.

"Man, this is too freaky!" Percy decided, running a hand through his sandy hair. "Way too freaky."

"You know what's funny? I only started seeing him after Mag and Dami went missing."

Luces' eyes widened. "Damn, you're right! Me too!"

"Do you think he could have had something to do with it?"

"We should consider it," Aven whispered. "Start documenting every time you see him if you can. If possible, get pictures. This guy is shady as fuck. I have a feeling he's sinister."

The scary part was that they all agreed with the paranoid kiddo.

 

 

Magenta watched the pendulum swing back and forth. His new therapist watched him, determined to outwait his clients' silence. When it became clear that Magenta was not about to talk, he sighed. "Look, the best way to make sure that your selective colour blindness doesn't come back is to make sure you stay mentally healthy. I know you don't enjoy being here-"

"There's nothing RED in this room." Magenta interrupted. "I'm bored."

The therapist rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, keep doing that," Magenta snarked, "ya might find your brain one of these days."

"Okay, let's try something else." The therapist smiled a bit, looking like a man with an ace up his sleeve. "How long has Emile been talking to you?"

Magenta choked. "What?! Who told you that?!"

"No matter how much you may think it of us, we are not stupid. We've heard you two conversing. Now, how long?"

Mag sighed. "About a week and a half."

"M-hm. And why was it kept a secret?"

"Because he trusted me! And... I didn't want to betray that trust... and snitches get stitches, so there's always that..."

The therapist nodded. "Okay, Magenta. That will be all for today."

As Mag left to go back to the room he and Emile shared, he asked, "You guys aren't mad at him, are you?"

"No, of course not."

Why couldn't Magenta repress the feeling that that was a lie? That he saw a spark of malice in those cold, grey eyes.


	10. 10

"Someone's following us." Virgil whispered.

"You noticed it too?" Patton bit her thumb. 

"Let's speed up." Virgil pulled out his switchblade, keeping it concealed in his hoodie sleeve as they walked. All he had wanted was to shop for nail polish with his friend. Was that really too much to ask?

The person following them sped up too. Virgil felt the worst kind of deja-vu, and he certainly knew that he didn't want a repeat of what happened last time. There were no hormone drug-lords to save him this time.

Patton grabbed her phone, dialling quickly. It went to voicemail. "Oh heck."

"Trust our luck," Virgil grumbled, grabbing Patton's arm and suddenly pulling her into a more crowded sidewalk, then removing his hoodie and using it to hide Pat's wild blue curls. "Train station."

Patton nodded. They walked down the street quickly, and Virgil used a shop window to check behind them.

The guy was still there.

Virgil's heart pounded as he sped up again, dragging Patton with the assistance of her Heelies. He pulled her into the subway station.

The almost empty train was just about to depart.

They jumped over a turnstile, bolting onto the train before it could.

One other person joined after them.

"Ah fuck." Virgil cursed. It was the same damn guy.

Patton reached into her purse, pulling out two things; a can of pepper spray, and a taser. When Virgil's jaw all but his the floor, she shrugged. "Logan insisted that I be able to defend myself, and going to self-defence classes only gave me sore muscles."

"Hard to imagine you beating up anyone."

They got off at the next stop, abandoning all pretence. Virgil started to sprint, pulling Patton along.

"Where are we going?" Patton asked.

"Talyn and Joan's house."

 

 

Luce had had just about enough of this guys bullshit. 

At first, it had been a fine day at track practice. Sure, seeing a guy running by and pulling someone else on heelies was a bit odd, even for her neighbourhood, but whatever.

Then came that fucking GREY-EYED MAN! And he just stopped... and was slowly coming closer... and she was running on caffeine alone so she decided to kill him.

When he was within range, she took her turn at the shot-put area, picking up the sixteen-pound ball under the pretence of throwing it where she was actually supposed to. Then, she winked at Geo, did the spin thing she always did when she was going to throw...

And threw it at the grey-eyed man, hitting him square in the nose. 

That'd teach him to fucking stalk Lucinda Sanders.

 

 

Magenta was not having a good day. Mostly because he'd just learned that his therapist DIDN'T EVEN WORK THERE WHAT THE HECK?!

And apparently, this guy could also be a WANTED GANG MEMBER! 

The exhausted police chief brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Okay, dude. I bought a sketch artist." poor guy acted like he hadn't slept a wink the last night. As Magenta described the man to the sketch artist, someone else came over the walkie-talkie.

"We've got an assault at the local school. Someone threw a shot-put at someone else."

"You got an image of the victim?"

"Yep. Texting now."

Chief Prince looked at his phone, narrowed his eyes, then looked at what the sketch artist had drawn. Then he looked at his phone again.

"What?"

Prince sighed. "You're never gonna believe this... it's the same guy."

Magentas eyes widened comically. This was like a soap opera.


	11. 11

At this point, if an alien came down from Heaven and threw a banana pizza at Dustin, it would still make more sense to the Sherriff that how quickly all of these puzzle pieces fit together.

He sighed, looking between where the ambulance had been, then at the small gang of ruffians. "So, let me get this straight; This guy has been following you for /two weeks,/ around the same time your two friends vanished, so you threw both a shot put and a tire at him."

"And an orange." Luce corrected.

"Don't forget the bag of tiny tomatoes," Aven whispered.

This was the weirdest damn case- "Okay, yes. You threw a bunch of stuff at him. Now, who are the friends who went missing?"

At that moment, Missy drove up with two FBI agents, Virgil, Patton, and Remy.

"You, Dustin, Virge and Pat just told me they got chased all the way across town- Holy /shit!/"

"Damian?!" 

"Damian?" No way. No way /Missy/ was one of the people these kids thought was missing.

"Yo! I haven't seen you lot in forever! How's it been?"

"We thought you were missing! You know where Magenta is?"

Oh Jesus Christ- "Magenta Price, correct?"

"Yeah!"

Dustin sighed, reminding himself that walking off a crime scene was unprofessional, no matter how ridiculous the situation was getting. "We'll discuss that later. Right now, I'm afraid you're all witnesses and thus probably should come to the station so that you can give statements."

 

 

Just when his day couldn't get any worse.

Dustin had just finished getting statements from everyone and was waiting for their parents to come to get them when a familiar car drove up, and his goddamn sister stormed into the station.

"Damien, please go out to the car," he ordered. Damien, formerly known as Missy, was all too happy to comply, all but sprinting outside.

"I'm here to collect my daughter." she snapped.

"No."

"ExCUSE me?!"

Dustin felt his leg start to tremble as he spoke, "I said no. It was nice to see you, now get out."

No such luck. "She's /my/ daughter, Dustin. You can't keep her from me."

"As a police officer who has evidence that she's a victim of emotional and mental abuse, including her own word, I think I can. So, kindly fuck off."

Mrs Mullins huffed. "Oh really? She's a compulsive liar."

"Really?" He stood up, rising to his full height. "Bold of you to assume that I don't know the signs of abuse. I have everything documented. Now, leave." He smirked, leaning down and whispering so that only she could hear him, "I could tell my mafia boss friend about you. They absolutely love killing people who abuse children."

Her eyes bulged. "Are you/threatening me?/"

He smiled, leaning back and sitting back down. "Of course not. That would be illegal. I'm just informing you of a few... circumstances."

The two stared at each other, and then Jane, one of the rookies, came up. "Hey Chief, we need you in the back."

Dustin nodded coldly to his sister. "Nice seeing you, puta."

Then, he walked away.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stabby stabby

James was livid beyond belief.

It took all of his restraint to not strangle the grey-eyed man before he regained consciousness, so he had to be content to just glare. As much as he hated being on the same continent as this guy, he needed to figure out if his da's friends were going to continue to ruin his life, or if he could finally have happiness.

He was betting on no.

He got to his feet as the grey-eyed man opened his eyes, his voice cracking out like a whip, "You have some/nerve-/"

"Shut up."

James' small hand curled into a fist at the tone that had been used on him so many times in his youth. "No."

The man's eyes widened. "/No?/ You stupid little slut-"

"Don't you dare-"

"Avoiding the truth, then, are we?" The man sat up, a wicked smirk on his face. "Cause I have this funny memory of you losing your virginity when you were, what, nine? Eight?"

James' mouth went dry. Seven. He'd been seven the first time his da had let his friends have their way. "Shut up-"

"Do your little friends know? Do they know about how you moaned-"

"Shut-"

"About all the times you screamed in pleasure." The man was gloating, grinning when he saw that he'd struck a nerve. "Admit it, you enjoyed it. Always dressed up so pretty whenever we came over."

James felt bile rising in the back of his throat as his vision tunnelled. he could feel the ghost of the dresses his dad would make him wear the first Saturday night of every month, smell the make-up-

"James." Jayjo put his/her hand on one of his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. "Do you want me to smite this bitch? Because I will."

James smiled ruefully, moving closer to the grey-eyed man. "No. I think I'd rather see him rot in the deepest, darkest cell that can be offered. Maybe in Russia."

Jayjo nodded, whipping out his/her phone. "I can arrange that."

James grinned. "I win."

The grey-eyed man shook his head. "No."

No one in the room saw it happen. The man lunged at James, something glinting in his hand. Jayjo reacted quickly, dark energy collecting on his/her fingertips as colliding with his chest, throwing him back on the bed. But not before he hit his target.

James looked calmly at the scalpel protruding from his stomach. "Look, I know it's the thought that counts and everything, but does this come with a gift receipt?"

Then, he collapsed.

 

 

"This is where you live?" Magenta demanded, not entirely concealing his horror at the run-down state of Emile's house.

"It's the only place we can afford. My dad can only pay for so much on minimum wage." Emile responded, shrugging. His dad had finally managed to prove that Emile was provoked, so he no longer needed to hide in a mental hospital to appease some PTA moms.

Though, at the mental hospital, meals were always guaranteed.

"Dad won't be home anytime soon," Emile continued.

Magenta stared at the mouldering sofa. "You live like this?"

Emile shrugged. "Not that hard, really. Not if it's all you've ever known."

Magenta's jaw hit the floor. "You're entire life?"

"Well, we used to live in an abandoned mall, but it got demolished so we live here now."

Magenta couldn't imagine that. His family was rich, had been since before he was born. He'd never considered that people could actually live the way Emile was describing. "I..."

Emile clapped his hand over Magentas mouth. "Please don't pity me. I hate it when people do that."

Magenta took a step back. "Yeah, same. I wouldn't do that to you. I was going to ask if you play DnD."

The smile that split across Emile's face was breathtaking.

 

 

/Look, yeah, I know it's short./


	13. Chapter 13

"Remy, you're going to put indents in the floor." Cato protested, half-hearted. Remy had been pacing for over two hours. Remy huffed, unamused, and paced with even more vigour.

"Are you the family of James Starr?" A nurse asked, stepping out of a nearby room.

Remy nodded. "How is he? Will he be okay?"

The nurse sighed. "You might want to sit down."

Remy complied, his thumb worrying his lips as all of the blood left his head.

"James will most likely live. But... I'm afraid I can't say the same for the child."

Tears welled up in Remy's dark eyes, and he managed to choke out, "What?"

"The... the fetus was killed by the stab. In fact, there's only a fifty-fifty chance he'll even be able to conceive again." The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Remy took a deep, shuddering breath. "Can I see him?"

"He won't be awake for a few hours, but yes."

Cato gently squeezed Remy's hand before letting his son go.

 

Remy sat by the hospital bed, waiting for the nurse to eave before reaching out and grabbing James' cold hand. "You know what's kind of funny? When Dustin called and told me you'd been stabbed in the stomach, I didn't even think about the baby. Well, I didn't think much at all, but while my mind was jumping to all the worst-case scenarios, I never once thought "he could lose the baby." I was just scared of losing you. Does that make me a bad person?"

Unsurprisingly, he got no response. "You know, I'm kind of worried still. Like, I know you'll live, and I don't care if you can't have children after this, but I'm scared of what this could do to you. Like, all those times you talked about feeling like your dad has taken everything from you? I guess this is another thing. I mean, it fucking sucks, man. But here's the thing; I still love you. Like, your dad has taken so much from you. But he can't take me." 

He kissed James' hand gently. "No, he can't take me. He can't take Cato, or Dustin. He can't take Roman or Virgil or Logan or Patton. He can't take Jag and Sweetie and Missy. He sure as hell can't take Talyn, Joan, or Jayjo. You've still got your family. Hey, you've still got your mom. And let's admit it, one more person fucks with you and she's taking a leaf out of your book and stabbing 'em with some knitting needles. Only I imagine it's more disconcerting to get stabbed by a tiny, friendly-looking lady than it is to get stabbed by a scarred kid."

Remy frowned. "Well, actually, I don't know. I mean, you're both pretty small. And to be honest, she's kind of passive-aggressive. Like McGonagall. And that whole shit with the cough drops. our mom has that kind of energy. I'm just saying."

He brushed some of the tears from his face. "Another admission, while you're still out; I was kinda scared about the baby. I mean, you're tiny enough as it is, would you even have been able to walk at nine months? And what if we'd lost it when we had gotten really attached. Like, think about it, we weren't really attached to this one. At this point, it was just something that caused you pain. You could barely eat, babydoll. I was, like, terrified. I was afraid that you were going to get really hurt or really sick, or maybe you were gonna die... because you're just so fragile. Hell, man, you broke your wrist cutting an apple." He raised his free hand in defence. "I'm just sayin."

"Oh, by the way, we got some good news. Jayjo managed to track down and smite the rest of those bastards. So, we don't have to worry about them haunting us like that fucking enigma dude. I mean, that bitch was everywhere. He was stalking these two kids at Sanders' place, he was stalking this gang of kids at this one school, and come to think of it, we were seeing him everywhere. Like, just out of the corner of my eye, I would always see him. Stalking us hard-core. That's why I would always sample your drink whenever we went out. Like, I was always seeing him, and I was so afraid he would slip a drug into your drink, like what happened during high school. Though I guess you kinda shot his dick off, so we probably don't have to worry about that- Shot that guy in the dick, stabbed your bitch-ass dad... babe, I love and support you, but you need to stop picking fights with gang members. Like, even if they start it. Call the cops or something. Or Sweetie. She yeeted him out a window. He's kinda dead now, but whatever."

Remy smiled, kissing James' hand. "What a chaotic life we live, babydoll."

 

 

Dustin raced into the hospital room, hair matted with blood and breathing hard. 

"What the hell- what happened to you?!" Cato demanded, getting to his feet.

Dustin took several deep, gulping breaths before finally managing to choke out; "Mi- Damian! They got Damian!"

"Who got Damian?" 

"It was her dad! We were outside and he just came out of nowhere and bashed me over the head! I woke up and both of them were gone!"

Jayjo swore, then began to rattle off orders to two new people in the room, some of his/her henchmen. "Code Amber. I want all available resources on this. We're looking for Missy Mullins, who sometimes goes by the alias Damian Constantine. Metallic blonde hair, dark green eyes, square jaw. I'll put as many pictures on the dark as I can. Shut down every damn way out of this country you can. Put out an APB in all states. I want all footage between five minutes ago and lockdown sent directly to Sol. We're going full Code Adam on this shit, got it?"

Everyone stared as the two agents nodded before leaving. Patton spoke up first, xir voice full of disbelief. "You can do that?"

Jayjo nodded. "You'd be surprised what I can do."


End file.
